Broken Hearts and Bathroom Floors
by My Quiet Riot
Summary: After Lexie breaks up with Mark for choosing his daughter and grandson over her, she's having a hard time dealing with the emotions that come along with it. Lexie runs off to the bathroom and bumps into Meredith. When Lexie starts falling apart, will Meredith be able to help her pick up the pieces? (Not the best summary, but it's an alternate write of Lexie's breakdown in 6x13.)
1. Chapter 1

**SPOILERS AHEAD — Don't read unless you have passed S6E17 ("Push")**

A/N: Hey there, potential readers. I'm a bit late on the Grey's Anatomy bandwagon. I've written for other fandoms quite a bit, but I decided to take a shot at a Grey's fanfiction. I love Meredith's and Lexie's relationship with each other and how it developed throughout Lexie's time on the show, but there were certain parts where I wished there was more of an on-screen, sisterly bonding between them. One of those scenes was season six, episode seventeen where Lexie asks Alex about Mark, then becomes upset and runs into Meredith in the bathroom and has a little meltdown. I've always thought it was a bit weird (though I suppose it was fitting for her character) that Meredith just kind of stands there and watches as Lexie cries on the floor. So I decided to write that part of the episode in fiction form and include more of what I would've personally liked to see between them. This will be a two-shot: the first chapter (in first person) from Lexie's POV, and the second from Meredith's. I originally started this in third person with the idea that I wanted to be able to get into both Lexie's and Meredith's minds; but after writing some of it, I wasn't really liking how it was coming along. I've always preferred writing in first person because it feels more personal. To me, third person just seems too detached and distant from the character. So that's why I decided to write one "chapter" from Lexie's POV and one from Meredith's—that way I could get into both of their heads while still writing in the POV that I'm more comfortable in.

Anyways, that's enough of my rambling. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

I had just finished a successful surgery with Arizona Robbins on Noah, a young boy who had been suffering from severe abdominal pain. It turned out that the poor kid had a massive cyst on his liver that had ruptured, thus causing the aforementioned pain. He became septic at one point, but thankfully the cyst was able to be removed—though it took his gallbladder with it—and little Noah pulled through just fine. I quickly scrub out and hurry off to find Alex Karev who had just finished a surgery of his own with Teddy Altman and Mark Sloan.

 _Mark Sloan_. Just his name itself causes a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest, one that I just can't ignore no matter how hard I try. And believe me, have I ever tried. I try so hard every day to make it through each surgery, each patient, each human interaction without allowing his presence or his name or the mere idea of him to interfere in any way. I had a plethora of friends throughout my high school and college days, but somehow—despite working in a rather large hospital filled with hundreds, even thousands of people—I now feel so, so alone.

Spotting Alex Karev ahead of me, I shake my head slightly, temporarily shoving the unwanted thoughts to the back of my crowded mind. "How was Mark?" I ask Alex, jogging lightly to catch up and soon falling into step beside him. "Did he do anything?"

Karev glances down at me and shakes his head. "Nah, he was totally cool," he answers cooly, taking me by surprise. I feel that all-too-familiar pain in my chest again, but I do my best not to show it. I'm sure he's just messing with me, anyways. Karev snickers lightly before adding, "I think he's into Altman now."

"Teddy?!" I ask incredulously, trying (in vain) to fend off the oncoming jealousy. Mark couldn't _possibly_ be into Teddy. I mean, don't get me wrong—Altman is an extremely capable and skilled surgeon and a generally nice person, but there is no way he had truly developed feelings for someone else that quickly. Call me conceited or whatever, but the way I see it, if our relationship was as real and wonderful and amazing to him as it was to me, there's no way he could be over me already. Even still, doubt and insecurity begins to creep into my mind again, and I let out a humorless laugh in hopes that it will cover the underlying jealousy and hurt. "Oh, come on. He's just trying to make me think that he's moving on," I say in an attempt to convince Alex, though deep down I know I'm really just trying to convince myself.

"It looked real," Karev shrugged, none the wiser to my hidden pain. He momentarily halts his forward procession and turns to face me. "He wants to take her to lunch. He's all like, 'Let's take it slow and get to know each other.' I think she went for it," he adds in a slightly mocking tone, rolling his eyes and making a face. Had the conversation been about anyone or anything else, and at any other time, I would have laughed at his snarky tone; but at the moment, the lump in my throat and pit in my stomach prevent me from doing so. Alex opens the door in front of him and walks away, and I am left standing in the middle of the hallway, probably looking as shocked as I feel, as I slowly process everything Alex just said. There's _no way_ Mark has already moved on... What we had, what we were, was _real_. It was amazing and beautiful and frustrating at times, but still wonderful. It was love... Right? I mean, I loved him, and he loved me, or so I thought. _I still love him_ , I acknowledge for the first time since I broke up with him. _I am still in love with him._

The lump in my throat grows bigger, and I know I'm going to cry soon if I don't get somewhere quiet to collect myself and calm down. I hate how easily and how much I cry, but try as I might, I can't quite control it. I don't know how Meredith keeps it together all the time—whether there's a patient dying on the table in front of her or something going on with her personal life, she always seems to be able to put that aside and focus on what really matters at the moment. I'm truly jealous of her for that (among other things). Sure she can come off a little cold by acting like that, but surely that is better than the label "overly-emotional."

Doing my best to bite back the oncoming tears, I tilt my head downwards and let my long hair cover as much of my face as possible. Offering half-hearted apologies to whoever I bump into, I hurry, somewhat blindly, to the nearest bathroom. I burst through the door and let it close behind me, breathing heavily in an attempt to control the sobs I can feel wanting to pull me down and drown me.

"Hey!" I hear a familiar voice greet cheerfully, and I look up to see my half-sister Meredith standing near the sink, drying her hands with a paper towel. I open my mouth to say something but my voice catches in my throat, and I know I won't be able to talk without my voice shaking. Unable to speak, I just stare at her, breath still heavy as I try hard to blink back tears. With a questioning look dawning her features, Meredith stares back, silently studying my expression before asking, "You okay?"

I exhale a shuddery breath and swallow again. For a moment I think about telling her I'm fine, letting her leave, and falling apart in private. But I'm far too close to tears, and she can probably see it. And something in me wants to, _needs_ to tell her. I'm not really expecting much from her, given that she's Meredith and feelings aren't really her thing; but I just really need someone to listen, I guess. I'm "friends" with most of the people I work with, but I would use the term "friends" lightly. Most people around here seem to like me well enough, but I can't help but wonder which ones would consider me a friend. I talk to other doctors when I need to for work purposes, and sometimes we'll have casual, light-hearted conversations in the on-call rooms or at lunch; but when it really comes down to it, the list of people I'd truly consider a friend around here isn't particularly long. There was Mark, but under the current circumstances, he's off the list. Derek would probably listen, but seeing as Mark's his best friend, he probably isn't the person I should be talking to about the subject. I'm friends with Alex, I guess, but after trying so hard to act like what he said earlier didn't bother me, I feel like it's too late to backtrack and tell him how I'm actually feeling. He wouldn't know what to do or say, anyways. Jackson's a good guy, but he's not ideal for this subject of conversation, either. Sadie Harris was someone I had considered a friend, but God only knows where she ran off to after George threatened to spill her secret. I would tell George if he was here, but... He's not. Meredith is the closest thing I have to a friend here, and even with her, I still sometimes feel uncomfortable talking to her about things. I know she cares about me and I am beyond happy that she's finally opening up to me and letting me be a part of her life; but even so, I sometimes feel like I'm annoying her with my overly-emotional whining.

"Mark's moving on," I say in a quiet, shaky voice, gesturing at nothing in particular. I swallow hard, willing my voice to sound normal. "Like, really."

Meredith stops drying her hands and narrows her eyes slightly as if processing what I just said. I can almost see the gears turning in her head. "Okay, well... That's good, isn't it?" she asks, visibly confused. Well, it seems like I had her fooled, anyways. I guess I can act better than I thought. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

My breath catches in my throat again and hot tears sting my eyes. Wasn't this what I wanted? ... No. I frantically nod a few times, trying (but failing miserably) to convince myself and Meredith. I inhale sharply and try to compose myself. "No, it's, that's... it's, it's great, that's, uh, great," I stumble ungracefully, tears beginning to fall down my face. "It's, um, that's perfect, that's per... it's perfect—" With that, I can't take it anymore. Giving up all resolve to stay composed, I let out a small sob, hot tears making their way down my cheeks as I sink to the floor. I cover my face with my hand and cry, violent, emotion-filled sobs wracking my entire body. Through my tears, I glance up at Meredith who is still standing across the bathroom, looking at me with a mixed expression of surprise and sympathy. I try to say something—to apologize for rambling and my senseless jabber and losing it in front of her like this—but my voice fails me and I hang my head down, giving up on speaking and letting the pain overcome me. This is my fault, really; I have nobody to blame but myself. After all, it was _me_ who dumped _him_ , all for choosing his daughter and grandchild—his _family_ —over me.

* * *

 _"Don't make me choose between you and her," Mark fervently begged me during our argument over Sloan Riley, Mark's pregnant daughter, moving in with us. Sometimes I forgot how much older Mark was than me, but at the present time, it was clear as day. Mark, in his early 40's, was so ready to have a teenager and, soon enough, a newborn boy living with us... But I wasn't. I was genuinely happy for him, that he'd found his daughter and got a second chance at parenthood. I really was. But I hadn't even begun to_ think _about raising a family from the very beginning, let alone jumping straight to a teenager and an infant simultaneously. And plus, this girl is what, eighteen? I am twenty-six, I am nowhere near old enough to even pretend to know a single thing about being a parent or guardian. I am far too young to have a grown "child," let alone a grandchild on the way. I just... I can't. Maybe there's just too big of an age gap between us for this to work out right now._

 _"Why?" I had murmured quietly, brokenly, already knowing the answer to the question I was about to utter. "'Cause you'll choose her?" His mouth shot open like he wanted to say something on the contrary, and for a moment I thought he might reply in a way that would prove my suspicions wrong. But that was a stupid, foolish hope, because he said nothing. He looked at me like he wanted to say something, anything that would allow him to have both options; but nothing came out. There was nothing to say to mend the situation._

 _He didn't have to say anything because the prolonged silence combined with the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know, but he softly replied, "Yeah... I'd choose her." Although I had known his answer prior to him even saying anything, it still hurt to hear him confirm it out loud._

 _Heart breaking into a million pieces, I looked downwards and bit back the tears that threatened to surface. "I think our relationship just ended," I said almost inaudibly, finality in my tone. Countless emotions flashed through his eyes and, for the thousandth time, he opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Foolishly, I silently wished, blindly hoped, even prayed that he might say something to persuade me to stay. Maybe he'd say that he changed his mind and wanted me, only me. But as he looked away again, I inwardly slapped myself for even thinking such a thought. Biting back tears and trying to hide the pain, I stepped forward, gave him one last gentle kiss, and turned away, walking down the apartment hallway to gather as many of my personal belongings as I was able to and leave before I could change my mind._

* * *

It was a stupid, selfish, completely unfair thing of me to do to make him choose between his daughter and grandson, and girlfriend. What kind of horrible person am I? I mean, what if Mark would've made me pick between him and Meredith? I would've chosen Meredith over him in a heartbeat. Sure, for the first few months of knowing each other, she failed on every occasion to live up to my fantasies of what a big sister should be; and yeah, maybe she wouldn't win the Sister of the Year Award... But she's _my_ sister, I love her, and that's good enough for me. And I know she cares about me, even if she doesn't show it all the time. Or at least I think she does. I can't really be sure of anything anymore, because the one thing I thought I was sure of has crumbled underneath me, leaving me free-falling into a pit of loneliness and insecurity. Ugh, I am a mess. I've been a mess all week, in fact. All I've been doing is trying to keep it together, failing at keeping it together, crying, and repeating the stupid cycle over and over. I was trapped in an elevator with Mark for less than thirty seconds the other day and I couldn't even stand there in silence for half a minute without crying and running out like a little girl. And then I got emotional about Cristina's sex injuries because they reminded me of similar abrasions Mark had given me. I feel my cheeks heat up in personal embarrassment at the God-forsaken memory. I literally cried _on Cristina Yang's ass_ about a _sex injury_. _Cristina Yang's_ sex injury at that. I will forever be embarrassed about that. Why do I even bother? Love has not worked out for me so far, so why did I think it would work out now? For a girl who skipped third grade, got straight-A's in high school, was valedictorian, got more straight-A's in college (at Harvard Medical, for God's sake), and passed her psych clerkship with flying colors, I sure am an idiot when it comes to social situations. Why can I not do a single thing ri—

"Lexie," came Meredith's soft voice from across the room, interrupting my self-deprecating thoughts. I weakly glance up but can't even bring myself to look at her. She must think I'm an absolute disaster (and I can't say I really blame her, to be honest). Unable to form a coherent sentence nor look her in the eye, I hang my head back downwards, tears hitting the tiled floor as they fall from my eyes. I must look absolutely pathetic right now. If this moment was a news headline, it would read, "Grown-Ass Woman Found Sobbing on Bathroom Floor Over a Guy, Resembles Middle School Girl." I lean back against the bathroom door, not caring if anyone walked in and hit me. Yes, please, hit me in the head with the door—then maybe it will concuss me and I can forget about the immense amount of pain I'm in.

"Lexie," Meredith repeated, this time sounding closer than her previous location across the room. I choke on a sob and glance up again, a mixture of tears and blonde streaks blurring my vision. She kneels beside me and I feel her hand rubbing my back in slow, comforting circles. She says nothing for a few moments, and when I glance up at her again, she reaches out and gently tucks several strands of hair behind my ear. I instinctively flinch away and try to avoid her gaze, but she gently grabs my face and tilts my head upwards so I'm forced to make eye contact. She looks at me with sadness and compassion in her eyes, gingerly wiping away a tear that was making its way down my cheek. I reach up and grab her wrist, clinging to it as I shake with the effort of holding in further emotion.

"I'm, s-sorry," I stammer, meaning to apologize for throwing all of my crazy emotions on her. She's told me herself that she doesn't quite know how to deal with her own complex emotions, let alone other people's. "I... I'm such a m-mess, I'm really... R-really sorry..."

"Shh," Meredith interrupts gently, "it's okay, there's no need to apologize." Then, taking me by surprise, she reaches forward and pulls me to her in a surprisingly warm, very-unlike-Meredith hug. It's a little awkward and stiff at first, but she soon relaxes and the embrace feels much more natural. Touched by the gesture, I collapse into her and cry harder than I've cried in quite a while, my sobs echoing painfully off the walls and the tile of the bathroom floor we're crouched on. "Just let it out, you're gonna okay." Every ounce of loneliness, jealousy, insecurity, and pain I've felt over the past few months manifests itself as liquid heartbreak running down my face, emotion taking over my body as I helplessly wear my broken heart on my sleeve.

"I... I don't know w-what to... to do," I choke out, clinging to her lab coat. "Everything just... Hurts..."

"I know," she murmurs softly as she soothingly runs her fingers through my hair, sadness in her own voice. "I'm so sorry, Lexie." I had never explicitly told her so, but having my hair stroked when I'm hurting is, for whatever reason, one of the most comforting things to me. My mother used to do that for me when I was a kid and had skinned my knee or got my feelings hurt. I guess it's just a feeling of safety and love to me, and it reminds me of my mom. It's nice.

"I sh-should've never... made him choose," I continue brokenly, forced to pause at awkward intervals due to my uneven breathing. "That was... So stupid. He just... Wanted to be a dad. I... I just..."

"It wasn't stupid," she replies quietly, thoughtfully. "He was ready to have an eighteen-year-old and newborn move in and you weren't. Maybe they are his daughter and grandson, but you were his girlfriend and you were living together. He had no right to just tell them to come right on in without even talking to you about it. I would've done the same thing."

I pull away slightly so my reddened eyes meet hers. "Really?" I ask, admittedly surprised. My words come out shaky and choppy as I fight to catch my breath. "You... You would've broken up with Derek if... you were in the same situation?"

"Maybe not at the age we are now," she admits after carefully thinking for a moment, "but if I was 26 and he was in his 40's, I sure as hell wouldn't want to have to think about being a parental figure to an eighteen-year-old, let alone a technical grandparent to an infant. That's just... Really weird," she adds with a slight smirk, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I manage a slight laugh in spite of myself, and Meredith offers a small grin in return. She hadn't really said anything particularly profound, but Meredith saying she would've done the same thing felt... Good, in a way, that she would make the same decision I did. Despite the rough beginning to our relationship, I've always looked up to her. Even when she pushed me away or let Cristina make fun of me or laughed at a joke at my expense, I've always loved and looked up to her. I've spent most of my life always acting the role of a big sister to Molly—always being supportive and protective over her, asking how her day was even if mine was absolutely horrible, being there while she talked or vented or cried—all the things a big sister should do and be. After years of that, it feels really nice to be able to be the little sister for once, not always having to act tough and put someone else first. I love Molly, of course, and I would never want my relationship with her any other way. But sometimes, when I'm just so physically and emotionally drained, it's nearly impossible to act like everything is alright. Though Meredith did none of those things I had hoped she would do at first, she is here now, affirming my decision and silently letting me know that I'm not some crazy, jealous lunatic for doing what I did. That's what really matters now.

I reach up and wipe my eyes, black makeup smearing on my hand despite my efforts to avoid it. "That... Makes me feel a little better, actually," I confess with a suddenly-shy smile. "Thanks."

Meredith returns the smile. She looks like she's about to say something, but she pauses thoughtfully for a moment, seeming to choose her words carefully. "I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, but if things are really 'meant to be' or whatever with you and Mark, he'll come around. And if he doesn't, well... That's really his loss."

"Do you really mean that?" I ask quietly, desperately wanting to believe her but still feeling somewhat skeptically. It was a very sweet thing to say, but I can't tell if she said it sincerely or just as one of those cliché, post-breakup phrases everyone throws around. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Of course I really mean that, Lexie," she answers without a moment's hesitation, and I feel myself genuinely smiling. "You did what you did because things were moving faster than you were ready for. That doesn't make you a horrible person. You're pretty much the opposite of that, actually. You're a wonderful doctor and probably the sweetest person I've ever met. Nauseatingly so," she jokingly adds with a light-hearted smirk, earning a laugh from me. "You loved me even when I pushed you away and did everything in my power to make you feel otherwise. If that's not something worth changing your mind for, I don't know what is. You managed to change my mind, at least."

I again feel tears fill my eyes, but they're not the sorrowful, heartbroken ones again. No, this time they're tears of loving warmth and contentment and a relief of some sort. "Thank you," I say with soft sincerity, locking my gaze with hers. Her typically-apathetic exterior is peeled back and her soft, caring, maternal layer is exposed. "Really. That... It means a lot, coming from you." Although I know I'm a good doctor and a nice person, it feels really good to hear it from my sister. It suddenly feels like some sort of unseen weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I honestly do feel better now.

"You're welcome." Meredith smiles warmly, then stands up and extends her hand down to me. "Now come on, let's get you cleaned up. You look like crap, Little Grey," she adds with a playful smirk. I laugh—a genuine laugh, not a forced one—and take her hand. She helps me up and I follow her back over to the sinks where she wets a paper towel and hands it to me.

"Ugh," I mutter humorously when I look in the mirror. "You're right, I do look like crap." We both laugh and Meredith gives me a gentle, playful nudge. I do my best to wipe away the makeup that had smeared under my eyes and lessen the physical signs of crying.

On our way out, I stop and turn to her just before we walk out the door. "Hey, Mer?"

She looks over at me. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for being there and listening. And for helping me feel better. I really appreciate it." I reach out and wrap my arms around her, and she doesn't hesitate to return the embrace. "I love you."

"I'm here anytime, Lex. I love you, too. Now," she continues after we both pull away, "back to work, Lexipedia. You have patients to attend to."

I smile warmly at her as we exit the bathroom and walk, together, down the hall. "Sure thing, Doctor Grey."

* * *

Well, that's it for Lexie's point of view. A little fun fact that you may or may not have remembered... In S5E13, following Mark's little injury, Lexie lays next to him in his hospital bed and says that she's going to stroke his hair, because, in her words, "that's what I like to have done to me when I'm hurt." I know Meredith wasn't there for that so she really wouldn't have any way of knowing Lexie likes that, but I think it's a nice gesture so I included it nonetheless.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading this! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought, whether positive or constructive criticism. I apologize for any typos, but after reading and re-reading this about a million times, I think I've lost my ability to see any errors. The chapter of Meredith's point of view should be up within the next week!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi again, guys! So this is the second "chapter" of _Broken Hearts and Bathroom Floors_. First, I'd just like to say thank you guys so much for the positive feedback on this! Lexie was (and still is) one of my favorite Grey's characters, and she had some of the most interesting and (I think) under-developed relationships with various characters.

I like to do review replies because I feel like I get to know the readers a bit more, so here they are:

Greybc — Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it. (:

MerDer2015 — Thanks so much! I also love MerDer and Slexie. They are definitely two of my absolute favorite pairs from the show. I am for sure going to write a MerDer fanfic, I love their relationship so much!

mandyg67 — Thank you! (:

Guest — Thank you! I've always thought it seemed unfinished, too. I guess since the voiceover was also going on at the time, it might have been a little awkward to keep it going, and film-wise I guess it was a good place to cut it off; but I always wished Mer would've done something on-screen to show a little support. She seems to care about her at this point in the show, so I thought it was odd that she just stares at her. I'm definitely going to write more Meredith and Lexie fics. I love their relationship and wish it was developed more on-screen, but I suppose I'll have to write my own cute sisterly moments instead. Thanks again! (:

13 — Thank you a ton! This is a "two-shot," of sorts. The last chapter was from Lexie's POV, and this chapter is the same scene but from Meredith's POV. I hate writing in third person so I chose to do two chapters of first person. I agree, Lexie had quite a lot going on and nobody really seemed to be giving her much support (on-screen, anyways). I'll definitely be posting more Meredith/Lexie stories! I obviously love Meredith, and Lexie is adorable and fun to write. Thanks again for the nice comment! (:

Anyways, now that that's out of the way, on to the part you actually came here to read!

* * *

 _I want to go home_.

That is the only thought in my head as I stand in front of the bathroom sink, idly washing my hands and thinking over the day's events thus far. Sure, Audrey's football-sized tumor was quite a sight to see, and I am genuinely glad we were able to remove it; but I have heard just about enough of bickering today. It started with Hunt and Webber duking it out for whose bright idea Derek would choose for Audrey's surgery, and it all went downhill from there. Thankfully they were able to get over themselves long enough to combine their ideas and save the girl's life, but I swear, those men act like middle schoolers sometimes. I turn around to grab a paper towel, and my thoughts are interrupted by someone slamming through the bathroom door. I look up to see my half-sister, Lexie.

"Hey!" I greet with a friendly smile. I wait for her usually-cheerful reply, but a couple seconds pass and she doesn't say anything, which is very rare for Lexie. Her breathing is shaky and a bit heavier than normal, and I notice she is blinking back tears. Somewhat surprised, I ask, "You okay?" She visibly tenses, though she tries to calm herself down with a short, uneven exhale.

"Mark's moving on," she says quietly, after a moment's pause. "Like, really."

I pause, narrowing my eyes slightly in confusion. Just earlier that day, she had told Cristina and I that she thought it would be better for both of them if Mark moved on. She couldn't really be upset about that, could she? I mean, now that I think about it, she _did_ get up and leave pretty quickly when Cristina joked about it, but I had pegged that down to Cristina being Cristina and Lexie being Lexie. Voicing my thoughts, I slowly question, "Okay, well... That's good, isn't it? Isn't that what you wanted?"

Tears well up in her dark eyes, and when she opens her mouth to speak, I hear her breath catch in her throat. She nods unconvincingly a few times before the tears begin to fall, and she stutters and stumbles over her words even more than she usually does. "No, it's, that's... it's, it's great, that's, uh, great. It's, um, that's perfect, that's per... It's perfect—" And with that, she can't seem to hold it in any longer. Letting out a small, feeble whimper that makes even my heart break a little, she sinks to the floor. Cheeks flushed red from crying and seeming-embarrassment, she covers her face with her hand as waves of emotion crash into her. She glances up at me through a curtain of messy, blonde hair, and she opens her mouth as if she's about to say something—but no words come out. She hangs her head in defeat and allows loud, heartbroken sobs to overcome her. It is now—as her devastated sobs reverberate off the cold tile around us—that I realize she had been lying. She doesn't want Mark to move on—in fact, that's the last thing she wants him to do. She is still in love with him. I should have seen it sooner, honestly. With that thought, guilt begins to prod me. Thinking back, Lexie had been quieter lately—at home, on the drives to work, even at work. I had noticed, of course, because everyone notices when someone as boisterous as Lexie is quieter. But, like many others, I had written it off as sleep-deprivation or something of the like. It started shortly after she broke up with Mark, so I should have put two and two together. Maybe I could've helped reach out to her sooner and prevented a meltdown like this.

 _Crap, crap, crap!_ I think to myself, wildly wracking my brain for an action plan. But, unfortunately, none arises. I am a _surgeon_ , dammit, I _always_ have an action plan. My sister is falling apart on the bathroom floor, and all I can do is stare at her in shock. I love Lexie, I really do, and it breaks my heart to see her like this. She's my sister, and I've come to accept her as a sister and even a friend. But sometimes I just don't know how to act around her. Though she tells me otherwise, I still feel like she's expecting me to be someone or do something that I'm not naturally. I'm constantly afraid of letting her down, but because of that fear, I realize, that's exactly what I keep doing: letting her down.

But this time, this time I will _not_ let her down. Although my first instinct is to quietly slip out the door behind her and run for the hills, I know I can't do that to her. She is shattering into a million pieces in front of me, tears streaming down her face and sorrow-filled sobs overcoming her. I don't quite know what I'm going to do or say, but the last thing she needs is for me to leave her here, alone, crying on the bathroom floor for anyone to walk in and see. Judging by the way she's hanging her head down, she's already embarrassed enough that she's bawling in front of me, let alone any random stranger—or worse, a fellow doctor—that could walk in any minute.

Although I'm not a touchy-feely, emotional type of person who does tear-filled hugs or whatever, my sister is. In her own words, I have pretty much "failed on every occasion" to live up to the role of what a big sister should be. And now Lexie—sweet, caring, sensitive Lexie who has been nothing but nice to me even when I pushed her away—is sobbing on the floor, unravelling right in front of me; and I'll be damned if I can't do something about it.

I slowly make my way towards her, still trying to formulate a plan as I get closer and closer. "Lexie," I gently call, hoping she isn't so lost in her pain that she'll look up. She lifts her head slightly but is clearly avoiding looking at me; and despite my best efforts to catch her eye, she reverts her gaze back to the floor. Sympathy pulls at my heartstrings as I close the gap between us. "Lexie," I repeat, kneeling down beside her, silently hoping nobody will walk in the door and hit us. I gently rub her back in an attempt at comfort, and she chokes on a sob while trying to control her breathing. I'm not sure what to say, so I say nothing. For a few seconds, we just sit there—her crying, me rubbing her back. She finally looks up at me again, and this time she holds my gaze for just a moment. I reach out and tenderly tuck a strand of her now-blonde hair behind her ear. She had dyed her hair blonde shortly after she broke up with Mark, stating that she "wanted a change to feel like a new person" so she could move on. Her naturally-dark roots are already visible, though, and if that isn't some cruel, telltale sign, then I don't know what is.

Lexie instinctively flinches away at my touch, quickly averting her gaze to the floor. Figuring she won't look at me on her own, I gently tilt her head up, forcing eye contact. Her usually-bright and sparkling eyes are now filled with a desperate pain, and my heart breaks a little more as a sense of hopelessness seems to wash over her. I look at her sadly, compassion for my little sister welling in my heart. This is why I had been so apprehensive of her and Mark, because I knew she'd wind up getting hurt. Now isn't the time for an I-told-you-so lecture, and by the look in her watery eyes, she already knows. Another tear slides down her cheek, and I instinctively wipe it away with my thumb. She reaches up and grabs my wrist, clinging to it as if she was dangling over a 10,000 foot drop and I was the only person on earth who could pull her back up.

"I'm, s-sorry," she chokes, shaking with the effort of suppressing her emotion. "I... I'm such a m-mess, I'm really... R-really sorry." Pangs of sadness stab me as she struggles through her sentences. She's in this much pain, yet she's still trying to apologize for supposedly inconveniencing me. I really do not deserve this girl in my life, but I'm incredibly glad she is.

"Shh," I soothe, "it's okay, there's no need to apologize." I'm not big on hugs, specifically the teary kind, but I shove that aside for the girl in beside me. After a moment's hesitation, I reach out and gently pull her to me. It feels awkward and unnatural to me at first, and I'm momentarily startled as she seems to start crying harder; but as she melts into me, I wrap my arms around her tighter and the embrace begins to feel much more organic. "Just let it out, you're gonna be okay," I promise her. And it's not an empty promise, either. I am Meredith Grey—I don't do empty, meaningless promises. One of the first things interns are taught is to never, ever promise anyone that they or their loved one will be okay, because it's the unfortunate reality that some people will not be okay. But this time, with Lexie, I promise her that she'll be okay because she _will_ be. Maybe not today or tomorrow or even in the near future, but sometime soon, she will be. She's Lexie, after all. She'll pull through.

"I... I don't know w-what to... to do," she confesses, now clinging to my lab coat. She lets out another sob. "Everything just... hurts."

"I know," I murmur softly, sadness clear in my voice. I slowly stroke her hair, running my fingers through it in what I hope is a comforting motion. Lost for other words, I simply reply, "I'm so sorry, Lexie."

"I sh-should've never... made him choose," she continues, breath still labored and awkward as she fights to regain composure. "That was... So stupid. He just... Wanted to be a dad. I... I just..."

"It wasn't stupid," I interrupt, cutting her off before she can delve into further self-disgust. "He was ready to have an eighteen-year-old and newborn move in and you weren't. Maybe they are his daughter and grandson, but you were his girlfriend and you were living together. He had no right to tell them to just come on in without even talking to you about it. I would've done the same thing," I finally admit, realizing that I wasn't just saying it.

She pulls away slightly, surprise evident on her tear-stained face. "Really? You... You would've broken up with Derek if... you were in the same shoes?"

I pause momentarily, thinking it through before finally nodding. "Maybe not at the age we are now," I admit, and it's true. While the age difference between Derek and I is comparable to that of Lexie and Mark, it's a little different, somehow, because we're older. The older you get, the less age differences seem to matter. And while maybe the age gap wouldn't be such a big deal if Lexie wasn't barely starting her career and Mark was ready to have a family, that is what's happening, and it wasn't fair to expect a girl as young as Lexie to be ready to be a step-mother to a teenager. "But if I was 26 and he was in his 40's," I continue, "I sure as hell wouldn't want to have to think about being a parental-figure to an eighteen-year-old, let alone a technical grandparent to an infant. That's just... Really weird." I smile a little at the end, trying to lighten the mood, if only just a bit. Lexie manages a slight laugh, and I smile in return.

She reaches up and wipes at her eyes, and I suppress a laugh as black makeup smears across her cheek and onto her hand. "That... Makes me feel a little better, actually," she confesses, a shy smile dawning her features. "Thanks."

I open my mouth to reply, then quickly shut it. I need to choose these next words carefully, or she's going to go on defensive and any progress their relationship had made today would be reversed. "I know this probably isn't what you want to hear," I begin cautiously, "but if things are really 'meant to be' or whatever with you and Mark, he'll come around. And if he doesn't, well... That's really his loss."

I can almost see the gears turning in her head as she silently processes what I said. A glimmer of hope flashes in her eyes, but it's quickly followed by skepticism. I can't say I blame her, really—it was a pretty commonplace thing to say (especially coming from me), mean it though I did.

"Do you really mean that?" she asks, that same flicker of hope in her eyes that she's clearly trying to hide. Her voice drops ever so slightly, and I can visibly see her fighting to not get her hopes up. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Of course I really mean that, Lexie," I reassure her without even a split-second hesitation. She smiles at me—a genuine Lexie smile. "You did what you did because things were moving faster than you were ready for. That doesn't make you a horrible person. You're pretty much the opposite of that, actually. You're a wonderful doctor and probably the sweetest person I've ever met. Nauseatingly so," I add jokingly, and she laughs. "You loved me even when I pushed you away and did everything in my power to make you feel otherwise. If that's not something worth changing your mind for, I don't know what is. You managed to change my mind, at least," I add with a sincere smile.

Tears again fill her eyes, but this time they're accompanied by a warm, grateful smile. "Thank you," she says softly, cheeks turning slightly red. "Really. That... It means a lot, coming from you." She exhales as if breathing a sigh of relief, and suddenly her eyes shine a little brighter through the tears.

"You're welcome," I reply warmly. "Now come on, let's get you cleaned up. You look like crap Little Grey." I extend a hand down to her and she takes it. I help pull her up with ease and we walk back to the sinks. I wet a paper towel, wring it out a bit, and hand it to her.

"Ugh," she laughs after taking a look in the mirror. "You're right, I do look like crap." Both of us laugh and I give her a light, playful nudge.

After she's fixed what she can, we turn to leave the bathroom. Just as we're about to walk out the door, Lexie stops. "Hey, Mer?"

I turn to look at her. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for being there and listening. And for helping me feel better. I really appreciate it." She reaches over and throws her arms around me, hugging me tight, and this time I don't hesitate to return the gesture. "I love you," she adds, making me smile.

"I'm here anytime, Lex," I tell her honestly. "I love you, too. Now back to work, Lexipedia," I say with mock-seriousness as we pull away. "You have patients to attend to."

She laughs and smirks at me. "Sure thing, Doctor Grey."

And with that, we walk out of the bathroom and down the hall, together.

* * *

All right, that's it for this little two-shot! I really hope you guys liked it because I really enjoyed writing it! Lexie and Meredith are both such fun characters to get into, and how they interact is definitely interesting to write. I'm planning on more Meredith and Lexie stories, as well as some cute MerDer and Slexie fics. If you liked this (or if you didn't), leave a review and let me know what you thought! I'd love to hear from you.

Again, I hope you enjoyed, and thanks so much for reading this! (:


End file.
